


with your other hand

by sixnumbers



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixnumbers/pseuds/sixnumbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was still a machine, something meant for the intimacy of watching a person’s soul leave them, to be covered in the blood of someone punched to death. Not of pleasing a lover, not of care and consideration.</p><p>(rated E for non-graphic sexual interactions, but probably delves a bit more than an M rating would allow)</p>
            </blockquote>





	with your other hand

**Author's Note:**

> So I really secretly love BuckyNat and wrote this fic in some haste. It's third-person but talks about Bucky's thought process, mainly because I've written it before and am finding writing Natasha-thoughts a harder nut to crack. -sigh-
> 
> Anyway, I had a thought that Tony, once Bucky is working under not-being-Winter-Soldier, makes a crack about how "chicks probably dig the metal arm, right?" and Bucky probably has some weirdo fangirls that talk about how cool that it can kill people (sort of like a serial killer fandom thing). Bucky is kind of sensitive about the arm, as it not only holds trauma but also is a piece of him he can never really reconcile. Natasha knows this and tries her best to make all of Bucky feel loved by her, including an arm she knows can cause chaos but knows the soul who bears it.
> 
> i'm a big bag of mush excuse me you can just read my fic now

When Bucky remembers the first night she asked “No, with your other hand”, he remembers how scared he was. He expected her to ask him to keep it in one place, or sometimes take it off entirely. He didn’t mind. It was an arm that had choked people to death, an arm that held a hideous strength. Even with Tony’s replacements, even the one with artificial skin, it felt...like it would never be right. There was too much violence behind it. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t the same arm he had for decades. It was still a machine, something meant for the intimacy of watching a person’s soul leave them, to be covered in the blood of someone punched to death. Not of pleasing a lover, not of care and consideration.

But Natasha? _God_ , she made it feel okay for that hand to be in her hair, to tug lightly on her locks and stroke her throat with his cold thumbs. The first time, he still wore the skin, but more and more he removed it to keep it cleaner, and soon it was his metal on her soft skin. It didn’t feel as nice as when he grabbed her soft curves with his organic hand, he didn’t find himself as lost in her warmth and her manic pulse. The cold fingers across her scalp made her sigh, and he nuzzled her neck to assure that the rest of him was much warmer, more living.

When Natasha spread her legs and guided his hand to touch the warmest, softest part of her, he almost pulled away. Though the polish left it smooth, he worried about cutting her or just plain hurting her. She meant too much that even one cold look made him fall to pieces, even if she was joking. He thought about not quite feeling when he was pressing too hard, thrusting too fast. But when he slipped his middle finger inside of her, her breath caught and her hips hitched up. When she exposed her throat to be kissed and said “Yes, another” in a husky whisper, he wondered how lucky he could be. He obliged her, and only vaguely could feel her across his metal fingers.

His ministrations were careful, exact, knowing what she wanted from using his other hand. When her eyes flickered open briefly, she pulled him down into a frenzied kiss, stroking the sculpted bicep of his arm. She intently rubs herself as he continues, pulling him in tight with her leg and biting his lips. The breathless cant of his name (his proper one) was rewarding enough as Natasha came, and Bucky kissed her neck over and over, making her groan.

When she pulled his hand away and wrapped herself around him, he felt less like a monster. He felt loved and knew in some strange way, Natasha had intended for that to be the case.


End file.
